The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,9

beer.”

“Here, have some of mine,” Courtney offers, tipping one of her two cups into Ashton’s ’til it’s full again.

I know Ashton’s mission is to forget Brendan tonight, but wow, she’s drinking fast.

“Maybe I should sit this out,” I say, shuddering as I sip the beer.

“Lana, don’t,” Ashton pleads, grabbing my arm desperately. “Just play for a little while.” She checks out my half cup of beer, not questioning where the rest of it went. “At least until your beer is gone.”

“Won’t take long,” I mumble. The anticipation of being honest in front of a group of strangers makes sweat prickle along my neck.

“I’ll start,” Courtney announces. She scans the small group with a devilish smirk. “Never have I ever … walked in on my parents having sex.”

“You’re seriously starting with that?” a girl remarks. “Ew.”

But then she drinks, as do a couple others, including Ashton. I cringe for all of them. Maybe I won’t be drinking much. They probably wouldn’t even consider half the things I’ve done.

The guy to her right goes next. “Never have I ever kissed more than one person in a single night.”

Well … there goes that theory. I take a sip, as does Ashton. No one else does. But they all gawk at us with brows raised. Hello, judgment. Maybe I should take bigger sips to get this torture over with.

“Never have I ever double-dipped.”

“Do you mean food or girls?”

All of the girls pull a disgusted face at the guy who asked that.

“I don’t even want to know how that can apply to a girl,” Ashton says. “However you mean it, you’re repulsive.” Then she addresses the girl who said it, “And that was lame.”

“Sorry,” she says, her face reddening. “I wanted everyone to have a chance to drink. We’re not all …”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication is obvious. They aren’t all like me and Ashton. And she’s right because almost everyone drinks to her pathetic never.

“Never have I ever stolen anything.”

A few drink. I don’t.

Ashton does and looks at me curiously. “What about the cars?”

Someone chokes on their beer.

“Not me. I was just a passenger. And sometimes driver. But never the thief.”

Ashton laughs. Everyone else stares. I hear Sawyer try to conceal a chuckle behind me.

“Never have I ever skinny-dipped.”

Nearly everyone drinks to that. At least they’re not all as pathetic as I initially feared. They’ve done something I haven’t.

From here, the nevers get more and more outrageous, pushing the boundaries of oversharing. Ashton drinks more than she doesn’t, as do I—thankfully finishing my cup before I self-incriminate too horrendously.

“I’m out,” I announce, scooting off the hay.

“Get me another beer?” Ashton asks, shaking her empty cup.

“You sure you still want to play?” I ask.

Sawyer traded her empty for a full cup once already. Her sips are gulps. I know what she’s doing, and I understand. But I also don’t want to drag her back to Blackwood just to get caught … or lost.

I slide my hand into my back pocket as I walk away, pulling out Joey’s phone. I turn it on, making sure it’s charged. The signal’s weak out here, but at least the battery has all its bars. Maybe the Maps app will work the closer we get to Blackwood. I hope.

Sawyer joins me at the keg. “Carjacking. Suspended. Broke someone’s nose. Should I be afraid of you?”

I smirk. “Yes.”

“Noted.”

By the time we fill the cups, I need to go to the bathroom … which makes me aware that there probably isn’t one. Squatting it is.

“Do you mind giving this to Ashton?” I ask Sawyer, handing him the beer.

“Sure.” He takes the cup from me and shuffles back through the crowd toward the game.

The designated squatting area is obvious as soon as I spot girls popping up from behind a large boulder to button their pants. After almost falling on my bare ass, trying to avoid peeing on my ankles, I return to the barn, feeling dirtier than when I did fall on my ass earlier.

I stand beside the post Sawyer is leaning against.

“She still playing?” I ask him, unable to hear what they’re saying now that everyone in the barn is shouting to be heard over the music and each other. I never realized that drunk people talk so loud. Maybe because I’ve never been sober at a party before. Not sure I like it.

“Not drinking?” Sawyer asks, eyeing my empty hands.

“I’m trying out sobriety.”

“And what do you think?”

“It kind of sucks, actually,” I admit. “But it has its